


Sleep to Dream Away Time

by bastilas



Series: The Great Shipwreck of Life [2]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: (mostly), Angst with a Happy Ending, Bitter Exes, Depressed Newt, Getting Back Together, M/M, Or about as happy as this can get, tcog compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-20 18:47:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18530980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bastilas/pseuds/bastilas
Summary: Newt runs into Percival after a year spent apart.A year in which he still hasn't made up his mind.





	Sleep to Dream Away Time

**Author's Note:**

> Here is the fanfic straight from hell!! (seriously this was so hard to write and I hate it so much, but I felt I owed it to ya'll.) I'm so so so relieved I'm finished this and that I don't have any WIPs on ao3 anymore. I think this is far from my best work tbh but I had to finish it. Also — the biggest miracle yet — the crimes of grindelwald actually made writing this easier... despite being a movie that drained like half of my love for fantastic beasts :/ but yeah! Hope you guys enjoy!!

He almost doesn't recognize him the first time he sees him after a year apart. It isn't his hair — which has grown into long strands that reach his shoulders, or the thick forest of facial hair — no, it's the look in his eyes. One that's never been there before. He's tired. Haunted. A shell of what he once was. It stirs something within the pit of Newt's stomach. Something akin to pity, but also not. There's anger too; hot, white and blinding, like an angry Graphorn ready to lash out and defend itself against an attack that hasn't happened.

It's in Flourish and Blotts, at a book signing, in Diagon Alley of all places, where Newt's supposed to be safe from encounters such as this, when he sees Percival Graves again for the first time in a year.

He signs the book before him in a quick and snappy flourish, managing a half smile for the girl in front of him before Percival steps up in line as next for a signing.

He hasn't even bothered to bring a copy of Newt's book as a pretense.

"Newt." is all he says, voice quiet. Raspy. He's biting the inside of his cheek, a tick of his from whenever he's stressed (and Newt hates that he remembers this), but his eyes are open and unguarded. Sad.

Newt can't help but stand in place, his eyes wide and face still. His mouth opens and closes, no words able to be formed.

A public book signing is hardly the place for a confrontation. Thankfully, he's near the end of his allotted time that'd been set for his signing, and he's sure that everyone will understand if he calls it early. Well- maybe not understand, but given his reputation for eccentrics, they'll at least create a reason floating around in their minds as to why he can't continue.

Feeling his heart skip a beat, Newt looks away from Percival to his assistant.

"Bunty?" He whispers.

"Yes?" she replies, eyes slightly narrowed. Every so often her eyes shift to Percival for a moment, then back to Newt.

"I need you to tell everyone I'm leaving early due to an emergency. I'll have another signing soon and they can be first in line as an apology for this."

Her eyes widen, and she looks at Percival again. She must have recognized him, and she can clearly see the shift in Newt's demeanour. At these book signings of Newt's, he's usually rather happy, if a bit awkward.

"Should I call Theseus—"

"N-no. This is something I have to do."

He'd told Percival, a year ago, that he may have an answer to his question after time had passed. And now, twelve months have gone by since that terrible night in Percival's apartment, and Newt's still no closer to an answer. But if Percival has dared to appear in public and confront him, Newt cannot simply ignore him nor turn him away without finding out why he's chosen to come back now, of all times.

Bunty stares at him for a couple of seconds, eyes still wide, but she takes a small step away and walks toward the crowd. Newt hardly pays attention to what she says as he brings his gaze back to Percival, who hasn't moved an inch.

Newt pauses. Can he really do this? Re-open wounds just barely patched over?

He hesitates when he steps forward and reaches out, taking Percival's hand in his, apparating them to his home in the middle of London. 

It's the first time Newt's skin has made contact with Percival's since that night Newt left New York for good.

_________

Percival stumbles as they land, Newt's home becoming a clearer picture around them. It's dark inside with all the curtains shut. And quiet; so quiet it sets him on edge before he even turns to face his ex-lover. Usually, there'd be the sound of muggle automobiles chugging down the street, or kids laughing and screaming while playing. But it's just quiet.

Behind him, Percival shifts, clearing his throat. "I wasn't expecting that."

Newt turns to face him. "What?"

"You apparating us here."

"O-oh. Sorry."

It's so quiet, he can hear Percival's breathing. Newt can't take it anymore — the weight of the air around him is suffocating. It's difficult to even comprehend that they're in the same room again, that Percival is here. Newt doesn't know what he wants, but if it's forgiveness, he's sorely mistaken in thinking Newt will just hand it to him.

One year. One. entire. _year_ he's spent in a depressive gloom, with entire days spent sleeping away, dreaming of better times, or times it would all come crashing down on him and November's events weighed too much — when tears would flow freely as he finally processed just how much it hurt to be betrayed by someone he loved with all his heart. To make it worse, only two weeks after the incident in New York, he'd had to attend his mother's funeral. He'd barely said a word to anyone in that time. He hadn't cried either — his body a hollow shell after his world came crashing down around him. 

Afterwards, when his father congratulated him for capturing Grindelwald, he'd given him an empty smile and left the countryside for his home in London so early in the morning that he didn't even say goodbye to his family.

It is quite possible that 1927 has been the worst year of his life. 

Even with the year he'd gotten kicked out of Hogwarts in consideration.

And it's almost all thanks to the man standing in his kitchen.

Being unable to stand the silence anymore, Newt cracks open a window despite the cool weather. At least the wind whipping by is better than stillness. So finally, he forces himself to turn around and face the reason for his distress.

"Why are you here? And why at my signing, of all places?" 

"I wanted to meet you somewhere you wouldn't feel uncomfortable. Where you knew you could get away from me if you chose."

"Very considerate of you. I had to cut the signing short and send people who'd waited for hours home."

Percival looks to the ground and bites the inside of his cheek. Then, he gives a cut off laugh in a deprecative tone. "It seems I can't do anything right anymore."

Newt doesn't know what to say to that so he remains silent.

Again, there's nothing but the whirring of wind from outside.

Newt can't take it anymore.

"Why are you here?" He asks again.

Percival's eyes avert to the counter. He moves forward, but a weird stutter in his step causes him to fall forward. He makes a sound that could be described as surprised and pained as he braces himself with the counter before he makes contact with the tiled floor. Newt doesn't think before dashing forward to support Percival.

It's too late by the time he realizes how close they are and how his hands steadily grip Percival's warm shoulders.

He yanks his hands back as if Percival is corrosive.

Percival still looks at the counter as he lifts the leg he stumped with off the ground gingerly, his palms planted flat on the counter.

"Your ankle is sprained?" He marvels at how he hadn't noticed it earlier. Percival had hidden it well, having shown no signs of over reliance on a leg until this point. 

"Didn't have time to heal it just yet."

Prior hesitations forgotten, Newt moves forward. "Take my arm. I'll fix it up quick."

Percival looks up, clearly surprised, but takes Newt's arm nonetheless. He puts most of his weight on Newt and his un-injured foot, allowing himself to be lead into Newt's living room to a plush looking sofa situated against the wall. He more falls than sits on the sofa, a pained grunt pushed from his lips as his ribs make contact with the back of it.

"Broken ribs too?" Newt asks.

Again, Percival's expression shifts to that of surprise. "How—?"

"My ribs have been broken before, remember? After that short trip to Mexico? I know what it's like."

Percival gives a small smile. "Right. You did tell me about that."

Newt smiles back, before quickly remembering their places. Silence prevails for a couple of seconds. Percival is injured, and he needs a salve. There are multiple jars he owns that can be of use, all of which are in the basement. At least it'll be a good minute or two for him to let him think over this situation. His mind is mostly just a whirl of confusion and hurt that's melted into a weird numbness — even apathy.

"I, um. You— T-take your shirt off. I'll be right back with the salve."

Newt hurriedly leaves the room, cheeks glowing. He descends a long staircase into his basement, locating the shelf full of medicines, salves, and potions. They aren't really organized neatly, but he at least put labels on them — otherwise, he'd be standing there searching for what he needed for hours. Luckily, he finds the jar needed after a minute and plucks if off the shelf, leaving a circle absent of dust in its wake.

With that solved, Newt allows himself a big breath. Percival is here. In his home. The same Percival he left behind in New York because he murdered a man. The same man who has essentially ruined his life for a year. He shuts his eyes and rubs his face.

Let it never be said he doesn't find himself in impossible situations on the yearly.

Percival probably wants to know if Newt'll take him back — if he'll agree to Percival's plea to travel the world with him from a year ago. And the fact is, Newt still doesn't have an answer. The easy thing to do would be sending Percival on his merry way, leaving him to fend for himself against whoever he's been fighting while on the run. But Newt's never been that cruel — nor does he wholly want to do that either.

A part of him falls back into the comfort of having someone who understood him so thoroughly around again. 

A part of him that he buries and tunes out.

He huffs, tightening his grip on the jar, and heads back upstairs.

He finds Percival shirtless and sitting on the couch, purpled and blue bruises on the skin above his ribs on display. There are other scars too, new to Newt but old. Healed over into shiny pinkish marks marring what had once been perfect skin. Not that Newt cares. He's plenty of his own.

Percival looks up as Newt walks closer, his eyes drifting to the jar.

"Can you put this on yourself?" Newt asks, pointedly keeping eye contact with Percival.

Percival twists his torso as he tries to reach with his hands. He makes a pained face. "No."

Newt resists the urge to curse. Of course he can't. He kneels down at Percival's side, twists the jar open and takes a glob of the sweet smelling cream in his hand. Hesitantly, he reaches out and spreads it on Percival's side — almost too aware of the hitch in Percival's breathing as they make contact.

Newt just barely avoids blushing again. He should absolutely not be reacting this way. They've been intimate plenty of times before; this is nothing. And yet, the reminder that once upon a time he would've lovingly ran his hands across this very spot of Percival's skin sets his pulse racing.

"How'd this happen?" He asks as a distraction.

"Grindelwald isn't exactly happy with me. His followers have been tracking me. I've had a few close encounters."

Newt can feel Percival's skin heating under his ministrations as a result of the salve. Slowly, the bruises begin to pale. He moves to Percival's ankle, folding up the pant leg and spreading the salve there.

"This is from them too?" The skin around Percival's ankle is badly swollen , likely as a result of him ignoring the injury and using the leg too much.

"Yes."

"I'm not going to say you didn't deserve it."

He can feel Percival stiffen. "Newt, I—"

"No. Don't start trying to apologize. What you've done is unforgivable. That auror deserved better. Credence deserves better."

" _Deserves?_ "

Newt realizes his mistake, his wide eyes and passive silence enough of an answer. 

Tina's been writing him letters, she's investigating Credence. She's not sure yet — but that doesn't matter. Now Percival knows.

"I never meant any harm to come to him, I was just so caught up with your life being in danger thatー"

"You callously tossed him to the side? Yes, I know that already." Newt's voice has taken on a hurt edge to it, one that he hadn't meant to come out, but it's too late to hide it now. "You would've given him to Grindelwald to be manipulated; to be turned into a monster. He would've been broken by him, and you _knew_ that."

Percival sits up despite his injury, eyes flinty. "Grindelwald would've _murdered_ you. I couldn't just let that happen!"

"So you decided to go back on everything you believed?! T-to betray everyone in the wizarding community, just for _me_? We've been over this— I never asked for that. I- I didn't want that."

Percival's eyes shine, and desperation sinks into his features. "I was confused. I didn't know what to believe anymore after what he did to me. You have to understand — to me, I felt he had all the power in the world, that disobeying him meant death for us all."

Newt glares.

"I'm only helping you because I felt obligated when you turned up at my book signing, _scaring_ me. As soon as you're healed, you're leaving, and you're going back to whatever it is you've been doing this last year."

"I've been fighting Grindelwald's followers."

As if that fixes everything. Newt isn't one to turn to sarcasm, but he almost wants to say congratulations in the most scathing tone possible. But — Percival could've been doing anything in his time on the run, and if nothing else, he's fighting to correct his wrongdoings. 

"I had nothing else to do," Percival says when Newt doesn't respond. "He ruined my life. Ruined _me_. He tried to kill you and turned me against everything I once believed. After I... after I showed you my memories and you looked at me with _disgust_ , I became enraged for what he turned me into."

Newt narrows his eyes. "You keep blaming him, and yet you're forgetting how many opportunities I gave you to help yourself. You could've come clean to me and we could've sorted everything out, but you continually lied."

Percival opens his mouth but shuts just as quickly. He has no retort.

A silence falls over them, one Newt wants to escape from desperately. He doesn't know what else to say, and Percival is even less forthcoming with anything. The history between can't just be cut down by an argument, and certainly won't be fixed anytime soon, or _ever_ , really.

But the quiet starts to wear on his mind. Newt drudges up some courage.

"Why are you here, Percival?" He asks for the final time.

"I came to apologize. But. I realize that'll never be enough to make up for what I've done. I just want your forgiveness. You're all I have left."

"Well. I guess your purpose here is served, because I don't think you realize just how much you've hurt me. How much I've gone through this past year, _because_ of you. I've spent nights crying, people eye me oddly on the street. They whisper, ' _oh, isn't that Graves' poor ex-lover?_ ' You know, it used to be about me being about a war hero's brother, but I think I'd even prefer that now. A-and sometimes I have nightmares. Almost every night, in fact. You won't ever have my forgiveness." Newt's eyes begin to water but he blinks the tears away furiously.

"Newt, I—"

"N-no, _stop_. Nothing you say can _ever_ make up for or fix what's happened. You can stay here for the night to recover, but that's it."

Percival, sitting on the couch with his ragged shirt torn open, opens his mouth then shuts it. His eyes have a glassy quality to them. He nods to himself for a moment and looks down, unable to bear Newt's hateful stare a second longer.

"Okay," he says quietly.

"Okay," Newt affirms. "Stay here for the night. Please be gone when I wake up. I don't want to have to call for Theseus or the rest of the Ministry."

"Okay."

"Good. Well, I'm going to feed my creatures."

Percival nods. "Goodnight," he says, then tenses, realizing how casually the term came from him.

"Night," Newt replies as callously as possible.

Newt leaves the room in a rush again, taking a deep breath in, then releasing it a couple of seconds later. His hands are shaking. He hadn't even realized. Squeezing his eyes shut tightly for a minute, he deliberately moves his mind off the topic, instead, concentrating on the care of his creatures.

He feels weird. This whole situation is jarring. It's stirred his emotions in a rage he can't make sense of. The entire time he attends to his creatures, he's hyper-aware Percival is upstairs.

His hands don't stop shaking until he lies down for bed an hour later.

______

Morning comes too fast. For a minute, he almost forgets Percival had been inside his home.

His heart feels oddly empty.

It isn't until he reaches his kitchen to make breakfast that he notices a note lying on the dining table. His heart leaps in his chest. Curious, he picks it up and turns it around.

 _Newt, I'm sorry._

Newt frowns. That's all? He searches around, almost as if to make sure Percival isn't still around, playing some cruel joke on him. But no. It really is just a piece of paper with the words I'm sorry. He very nearly throws the paper in the trash before something else catches his eyes.

In his fireplace are little bits of paper blackened by fire. There's more ash than he ever remembers there being — seeing as he almost never used the thing.

In fact—

He turns around to find the stack of paper on the counter diminished, and his quill not where he usually leaves it.

There had been more to the note Percival left. He just hadn't found them adequate enough for Newt, apparently. Though, unbeknownst to Percival, Newt's accidentally lost entire chunks of his manuscript from creatures starting it on fire. Chunks that took hours out of his life — that gave him cause to search for a spell that could undo the damage.

Newt takes out his wand and points it at the fireplace. Ashes and charred remains of paper whirl in the air, piecing together into full sheets before his eyes. There are dozens of them. Just how much did Percival write? Newt waves them over to the table in a neat stack. He peers over them, taking in Percival's extremely neat and loopy handwriting.

Hunger pangs his stomach, but his curiosity is too great. He takes them in hand and begins reading.

_Newt, I don't know how to start this. I'm sorry. I want to say—_

It ends there.

He goes through several of them that begin in the same fashion until he comes across one with a significant amount of content.

_Newt,_

_It does terrible things to your mind — that nobody noticed you're gone, that no one cared enough. I lost all hope. All faith that my duties as Director changed the lives of others for the better. When all hope fled, Grindelwald's words became a ray of hope in an otherwise bleak situation. I know you find it reprehensible that I'd actually listen to his lies. That I'd believe him. But you haven't experienced torture. You haven't been on the end of a wand, crying for mercy, wanting someone, anyone, to save you._

_Now that I've spent an entire year out of his grasp, the world's become clearer again. I full well know what I did was wrong. To you, to Credence, to ~~my auror~~. Michael Louis. I lie awake unable to sleep some nights, shot through with guilt. I fight Grindelwald's followers when I can. But it'll never be enough to make up for what I've done. Newt, I'm—_

And the letter ends there. Newt frowns, turning the paper over and finding it blank. Pity tugs at him, manifesting as a sick feeling inside as he wonders if turning away Percival had been the right thing to do. He'd seen the torture Percival went through at the hands of Grindelwald when Percival showed him his memories — only bits and pieces — and it broke his heart to see Percival in so much pain. Newt doesn't know if he'd be able to resist Grindelwald if he were put in the same place.

But it's the memory of the auror who died at Percival's hands that haunts Newt's dreams at night.

Sickening green — the room gone bright, and then, dead. A lifeless corpse lies on the ground. Percival's eyes water, unimaginable guilt fills him and—

No.

Newt will not pity Percival after he murdered a man.

Newt sets the letter down on the table with care and brings his attention to the one beneath it. This one looks to be about as long as the previous one.

_Newt,_

_I've scrapped numerous letters before writing this one. They were all focused on making up for my shortcomings, for the horrors I've committed, but I want this one to be about you. About how much you mean to me._

_When you left for your trip to South America, nearly a year and a half ago, I lied awake that night, alone in bed, just staring at the side where you would've been. It hadn't been until I'd been alone in bed for a week that I realized what that sad, empty feeling in my chest really meant. ~~I loved you~~ , love you. I love the way your entire face lights up in a smile, or the way you allow yourself to gentle with your creatures. I love that you took care of me despite everything I've done to you._

_When Grindelwald captured me, I told myself that you'd notice I was gone. And you did, in a sort of ways. Almost the moment you woke me up after you got back from your trip, you realized I wasn't right._

_You're that kind of person that comes along once in a century, with a heart that's golden and warms those around you. I only cast shadows on you._

_I don't deserve you, and I never did. I'm sorry, Newt._

_You've made clear my presence pains you, and you'll never have to see me again._

Newt's hands are shaking again, causing the paper to make crinkling noises. He sets the letter down on the table and leans on it for support. His eyes water, as they always seem to when the subject of Percival comes up in his life. There's a hole in his heart, wide open and gaping where Percival should be, and it only feels as though it's expanded, and the hurt has doubled.

You'll never have to see me again.

Newt's not entirely sure that what he wants anymore.

____

Months fly by. Grindelwald escapes, and with him, he takes Queenie and Credence. Well, no— he doesn't take them. They _join_ him. Just as Percival once had.

Life takes on a bleakness it hadn't possessed before. Tina and Theseus are beside themselves in grief — one working themselves to the bone trying to stop Grindelwald, and the other shutting down. Newt tells Tina she can stay with him in London if she'd like, so that she won't be alone in New York, but she refuses. She says she can get the most done by doing her duty as an auror for MACUSA.

Theseus, on the other hand, is a different story. He still attends work, yes, and does his job. But that daring spark of his — the one that earned him the title of a war hero — is gone. Losing a fiancé and mother in the same year does that to you. Newt would know.

Worst of all, however, is how divided the wizarding world becomes. In a matter of weeks, it seems everyone has picked their sides, tension rising to an all-time high. The justice department is close to having to deal with a full-on revolt right at the Ministry's doorsteps. More and more flock to Grindelwald's cause everyday, seemingly ignoring or ignorant of the dark underbelly to his movement. The one Newt has witnessed personally. Twice.

Now, with Leta dead, Queenie and Credence serving a monstrous psychopath, Tina and Jacob in another country, and Theseus shut down, all the remains is Newt, on his own.

Sometimes he wonders what Percival is doing. If he's keeping up his one-man-fight against Grindelwald. A lot changed in the past four months, including Newt's views on the world. If Queenie; sweet, charming, only-wants-to-help, Queenie, can join a monster's cause, is it really so implausible Percival would? Percival had once been a bastion for justice and he fell. Just as Queenie did. Just as dozens do every day now.

It doesn't make what Percival did any better, but the reasoning behind the actions becomes clearer, leaving Newt with less and less reason to hate Percival or want to push him away.

He sighs wistfully, wishing to go back to the way life had been two years ago.

______

Spain.

It's in Spain, almost two months after the fiasco in Paris where he's gone to meet a Diricrawl breeder when he sees him again. Hair a little more grown out, and beard just as thick, Newt knows him when he sees him this time. In a muggle market, of all places. He's turned away from Newt, unaware of his presence, and the warm spring sun shines over him, giving his dark hair almost a glow.

It's hard to think this is the same man who's a murderer.

Newt knows he should turn around and leave before Percival takes notice of him, but he can't. He thinks back to the last letter Percival wrote, of how he likened himself to shadows.

You never met a monster you couldn't love.

Leta's words are a comfort in this moment. It's enough for Newt to gather courage and step forward, gently tapping his hand on Percival's shoulder. He jumps under Newt's touch, promptly spinning around to come face to face with Newt, his face the picture of surprise. His mouth opens but no words come out.

"Hello," he greets.

"Newt? What—"

Newt stops Percival from talking by tugging on his hand, leading them out of a sea of bodies and a cloud of chatter and laughter. There's resistance at first until Percival finally takes a few stumbling steps forward and follows. Newt takes them a couple of blocks away until he rounds an alley. He turns, wanting to address Percival, but his eyes widen as Percival takes a few quick steps forward and shoves him into the wall, wand at Newt's neck.

A thrill of fear shoots through him as memories of Percival holding him against a wall come back in flashes, and suddenly it feels like a year ago.

"Who are you?" Percival demands, face twisted into a glare.

"W-what? Percival, it's me. Go through my memories, ask me a question, use a spell. It's me. I know you said I'd never have to see you again, b-but a lot has happened, and I saw you in the market as I walked by."

Percival's eyebrows furrow. Then he stands back and his face relaxes. "How did you—?"

Newt smiles. "I have some experience with creatures that set my possessions on fire. Reconstructing paper wasn't difficult."

Percival gives a brisk, surprised laugh, and his eyes soften. "Leave it to you to know such a spell." He puts his wand back into his pocket, but hesitates, body going stiff as stone. "Why... why are you here Newt?"

Newt's mirth fades away. "As I said, a lot has changed since I last saw you."

"Grindelwald."

Newt nods. The source of all problems in his life — or anyone's, by the way his influence has spread through the wizarding community. If Grindelwald never came into their lives, Percival wouldn't be as he is; broken, a murderer, and on the run. Queenie and Credence would've never gone with Grindelwald, and Theseus would still have a fiancé. Newt would still have his childhood friend.

"Listen, I have a room in a hotel nearby. I had a book signing and they rented the room for me. It's not the nicest, but– that's beside the point. Come with me and we'll... talk. About what happened."

Percival's face brightens almost in-perceptively. If Newt hadn't spent a year in love with the man, he wouldn't have noticed the slight relaxation of his stature, meaning he's happy with the turn of events. He holds his arm out, palm upturned and steady, waiting for Percival's touch.

The hand that greets his touch is warm and calloused — much more than Newt last remembered it being — its grip is tight and steady, almost grounding in its surety.

Newt grabs back at Percival's hand tighter, then it's off they go to his hotel room.

_

 

Newt's hotel room is small. Just one room, about twenty square feet in total, most of which is taken up by a bed with a metal frame, and a dresser. The walls are covered in a garish dark red and floral wallpaper with tears in it. It's not the most pleasant place he's stayed in before, but at least he can call it cozy. Especially now that Percival is sharing the space.

Percival himself leans against the dresser while Newt sits on the bed, wincing as the springs in the mattress screech beneath his weight.

"You look more tired than when I last saw you," Percival comments. "No doubt Grindelwald's doing?"

Newt nods, though he finds himself a bit surprised. He didn't think his stress showed outwardly — at least, not appearance wise. Sure, some dark circles have made themselves a home beneath his eyes, but they aren't severe. Not the like ones Theseus and Tina have. "And you look like you've healed."

"Mm. Whatever Grindelwald's been doing, either he lost track of me, or I'm no longer worth his time. I'd like it to be the latter, though if my luck in the past year is anything to go by, he's still looking for me. Thankfully though, I've had time to recover."

That silence, the heavy one, like from when they were in Newt's kitchen, is back again. What is he supposed to say? He's happy for Percival? In some ways, he is. But at the same time, he can't help feeling Percival had been getting what he deserved.

Maybe speaking to Percival was a mistake. Maybe he should've just walked right by him in the market—

"Newt, are you alright?"

Newt whips his head up from looking at the floorboards to Percival. He almost answers yes, but for one, Percival would know it to be a lie, and two, he doesn't know if he _can_ bring himself to say he's fine. After the events of New York and Paris, pretending is too difficult.

"No," he whispers.

Percival gives a slight nod, acknowledging his answer, and pushes away from the wall, moving over to Newt slowly until he reaches the bed and sits with him.

"What happened in Paris, Newt?"

"You've seen the papers, haven't you?" Newt asks miserably. There'd been articles about the auror's deaths and Theseus' loss for weeks.

"Seen them, yes. Read them? No. I want to hear it from you. I know they tend to exaggerate things — I've been the victim of that too many times to count."

Newt gives a small smile. He remembers the one article about him and Percival in the New York Ghost after Percival took him to a ball. They'd speculated he'd given Percival amortentia because, in their words: the Director of Magical Security is above love and relationships. He and Percival had laughed it off. In fact, Percival even cut the article out and kept it framed in his office, causing it to became a passing joke between Newt and the aurors whenever he came to visit.

But that was back when the world seemed so bright, so full of colour and possibilities. 

"I want to go back to the way things were," Newt sighs. "I— I never really wanted to get involved in any of this, but now it feels as though I have part of the responsibility in stopping Grindelwald. And— and sometimes I wonder if it's my fault I hadn't noticed things sooner."

"No." The way Percival says it, so forcefully and sure, jolts Newt. "You're not at fault for anything. You... you read my letter, right?"

You're that kind of person that comes along once in a century, with a heart that's golden and warms those around you.

Newt nods. Percival steps forward, stops for a second, and then moves forwards and joins Newt by sitting beside him on the edge of the bed.

"Then you know how I feel about you already. You didn't deserve to be dragged into a fight that's not your own. But you're fighting it anyway. Because it's the right thing to do — because you can't abide by the darkness. It's how I should've been."

"You didn't deserve what happened to you either." He can feel Percival stiffen beside him. "Nobody deserves to be tortured and manipulated. I j-just— I wish we could go back to the way things were. But I don't know if I can ever forgive you for what you've done." Like murder. Like abusing Credence. It's easy to forget Percival has committed such terrible crimes.

Percival exhales deeply. "I know. And I won't ask you to again. I have to live with what I've done for the rest of my life — you shouldn't have to forgive me for them if I can't even forgive myself."

"Percival..."

"I don't want anyone's pity. I don't deserve it. Please, don't."

Newt keeps his mouth shut. A creeping feeling of sickness sinks into his skin, his very being, and he doesn't know why or what from. Everything just feels... wrong. He thinks it may be guilt, but that doesn't fully encompass it. Sadness, maybe.

There's a warm touch on his shoulder, and he very nearly jumps.

"Listen. You... I don't think I've ever seen you look so distraught. So, if you want me to be around for a bit. I can stay. And when you want me gone, I'll leave."

That sounds nice. Very nice.

Newt can't stand to be alone anymore. He misses having someone he could tell each and every secret of his to. He misses waking up next to a warm body, the joy of knowing someone wants him in return, and most of all, he just misses Percival. The quiet strength he carried with him; the comforting touches he gave Newt and only Newt.

"Please," he whispers.

Percival's thumb brushes Newt's shoulder in a comforting motion. "Okay," he agrees.

____

While having Percival around isn't quite how it used to be, parts of it still feel like they used to. Like before Percival had changed.

Newt takes Percival with him back to London in his case. They don't talk about their past, or what happened in New York or Paris. In fact, nothing about Grindelwald is mentioned, even as Newt sees the papers — almost each with a headline about the man every day. Just staying in their own little world is so much easier. It doesn't matter that Percival is quieter than usual — at least he isn't hiding anything from Newt this time.

It's nice to come into his living room and sit with Percival in silence while they read because that way Newt isn't alone anymore.

Only sometimes is Percival's presence is a problem.

Newt can't just forget Percival's murdered a man, as much as he'd like to exist in a blissfully ignorant state. Some nights, what he witnessed in Percival's mind haunts his dreams. He always wakes gasping and shivering. He feels sick when he remembers the same man in his dream is the one sleeping on his couch downstairs.

-

It's late at night. Closer to eleven and Newt just finished the care-taking of his creatures in his basement. He's put Bunty on an extended vacation while he figures out what he wants with Percival.

And that's just it, it always comes down to Percival.

Sitting next to Dougal, he absently pets his fur. Nothing he does or thinks will get rid of the nauseating feeling that resides in him, not even telling himself that Percival won't be here for much longer if he doesn't want him to be. With his say-so, Percival will leave, and Newt doubts he'd try and linger. Not with how much guilt he carries for the crimes he committed.

Newt wilts against the fence that stands beside Dougal's enclosure, squeezing his eyes shut tightly as if he can block out reality by doing so. Dougal makes a low whining noise, pressing closer to Newt's hand for more attention. Never one to deny his creatures, he continues to stroke Dougal's fur with a gentle hand.

"You don't look too happy."

Newt startles, eyes snapping open to the sight of Percival standing in front of him. He drops the hand petting Dougal to his side but makes no move to stand up. Carefully, he keeps his expression neutral.

"So now you care I'm upset?" It's a little unfair, and a shot back to the days when Percival was out every night in New York, but Newt doesn't have the energy to apologize.

Percival's eyes flicker with a deep sadness. Though, the expression fades away almost too quickly for Newt to commit it to memory. Percival sighs, takes a few steps closer, then lowers himself down to sit next to Newt slowly, giving Newt plenty of time to shuffle away if he wants.

Newt stiffens but he makes no effort to move away. It's enough confirmation for Percival to know he's accepted, so he leans back on the fence, and Newt's shoulders slowly relax again.

"I've always cared about how you felt," Percival starts slowly. "I remember coming home one night, and you were still awake, still waiting for me despite it being three in the morning, and it broke my heart. I wanted to stop, I just couldn't."

There's a pang of pain in his chest, the type that's like a crack in the heart — He makes a weird choked off whine, and he can see Percival's head turn to stare at him out of the corner of his eye.

Tears break out and he's powerless to stop them as they make hot, watery paths down his cheeks, spilling down onto his shirt, making a damp patch where they land. He makes another choked sound, the pressure of everything that's happened with Grindelwald becoming too unbearable.

Percival moves closer, then slowly puts a hand on his shoulder in order to turn Newt into his side for an awkward half-hug while they still sit beside each other.

Newt doesn't even bother to pull away from the touch. "Nothing has been okay since I got back to New York last year," he admits through tears, voice shaky. "I want to go back to worrying about my creatures, and exploring. To being that odd fellow with a strange profession."

Instead, he's in the arms of an ex-lover crying.

One year ago, he was concerned with writing a book.

"I wish we could go back in time."

In response, he can hear Percival open his mouth, as if to say something, but he ends up staying silent. It stays that way between them for a minute.

"I wish I'd told you everything. I was so, so close that night I confronted you about getting Tina to follow me. But I just couldn't. I thought you'd push me away, that you'd despise me. If I could go back, I'd change everything. Nothing I can say will ever be able to explain how much I hate myself for what I've done to you."

Newt sniffles. He thinks about a reality where Percival admitted exactly what was happening when asked the same day Newt came back from his trip. They'd go to Picquery, they'd come up with a plan to capture Grindelwald. Newt would still find out his mother died, but Percival would be there to support him every step of the way through his grief. Credence could've been helped properly. Newt wouldn't carry this horrid, maddening sadness every day. He'd release his book. He'd share his joy about how well-received it was with Percival.

He feels heartsick. He loved Percival with everything he was. He shared his life with Percival.

And now Percival is here.

He's beside him, offering comfort, wanting to make things better, open and honest, scarred by mistakes he can't fix.

Newt has to ask himself if this is something he wants to do.

Percival raises a hand, slowly bringing it to the side of his face, his touch warm, and a calloused thumb slowly runs over a tear that's gone somewhat cool from the air around them. Newt's eyes rise to meet Percival's, finding adoration in them. It brings him back to their first kiss, when Newt's face had turned red as a tomato when he realized what Percival intended to do.

That snaps Newt's mind back into place.

He jerks away, eyes blinking rapidly as he takes in Percival's wide open expression of surprise and acceptance.

Newt quickly scrambles to his feet. "I- I- I have to get to bed now. Goodnight."

He leaves as quickly as he can, breaking into a speed walk, leaving his case in what has to be record time. His heart pounds rapidly, knowing if he'd of stayed in place only a minute longer, his lips would've met Percival's; he doesn't think he would've been able to pull away.

And that scares him as much as it thrills him.

______

 

There have been nights where Newt's been unable to sleep; times when he tossed and turned in a bed too warm, his mind too hyperactive and body unwilling to fall into a blissful state of rest. There have been times he's cried in frustration for his body's lack of co-operation when it came to sleeping. But this... this is something else. The second his head hits the pillow, thoughts storming, he knows he won't be achieving sleep.

He's split down to his very center, more conflicted than he's ever been. He thinks about Percival's dark apologetic eyes, of his shaking hands, his calloused thumb wiping a tear from his cheek so gently he could barely register the feeling of it. Just having Percival touch him again had been too much.

And hearing Percival confess everything he felt, his guilt, his horror for what he'd done, Newt didn't know how to think. It obviously didn't reverse or take away his guilt in anything he'd done, but sympathy had bubbled up in Newt nonetheless.

It's time he admits something to himself that he's been denying for so long.

He still loves Percival. He never stopped. And he misses him. He misses him so much it physically hurts sometimes.

And Newt hates himself for it.

Percival has murdered. He's a traitor.

Yet Newt's feelings remain, unfettered by the facts.

It is this exact reason he knows he'll never achieve sleep. It eats him up inside.

Newt remembers once reading a silly romance novel while he was in school. It'd been predictable. Trite. Something entirely out of his zone of interest. And yet, something about the characters enveloped his interest so much he couldn't help but turn each page in rapt attention. There were quotes he never forgot, much of them being pointless, but now, one sticks out to him: you can't stop love, it'll always choose what it wants.

It brings him little peace, however relevant to his situation it is now, but it's enough to drive him out of bed and back to his case.

Newt shoves any and all protesting thoughts from his mind with a singular goal in mind: find Percival.

He's not in the expected areas within his case; not in the shack, nor is he in any of the habitats for the creatures. Newt frowns. There's one area he hasn't checked. He quickly walks to the arctic enclosure meant for an animal that prefers cold, but instead holds the remains of an eight-year-old girl.

He throws back the curtain separating it from the rest of the case and sees Percival jump. But he doesn't turn around to look at Newt, he keeps his head forward, gaze trained on the smoky orb gently flowing around the enclosure.

"I come here sometimes when I can't sleep." He stays quiet for a minute, and Newt doesn't say anything in return. "I almost gave over Credence to a man who would've turned him into this."

"Yes," Newt agrees.

"I always wanted to do the right thing, from the time I was little. I wanted to follow in my father's footsteps and 'lock away the bad guys.'" He laughs depreciatingly. "I always thought myself a good person... Then Grindelwald happened. I lost my way, I realize that now. My vision of the world become so clouded I thought he was right. I've done horrible things, and blood stains my skin. There's no coming back from that."

Newt waits before responding. "No, there isn't. B-but I'll admit, I see why you did it."

Percival's shoulders stiffen. "Why are you here, Newt? I thought you went to bed." There's something off about his voice.

Newt creeps closer. "I couldn't sleep either."

Finally, Newt lays his hand on Percival's shoulder and pulls on it, causing Percival to turn and face him. There are unshed tears in his eyes, made more prominent by the stark white of the enclosure around them. Percival blinks, and the tears don't fall. Newt can't hold himself back any longer. He knows he should be stopping, he knows, yet a dam within him has been obliterated and there's no stopping this. He wraps his arms around Percival tightly, burying his face in the crook of his neck despite their height disparity.

Percival remains stiff, before slowly raising his arms to wrap them around Newt too.

"I missed you," he says quietly against Percival's neck. "I missed you so much. It was like there was this hole in my heart, ever since I got back to New York, and it's still waiting to be filled. I've never felt what I do for you like anyone else. I've tried to stop it, to ignore it, but I can't."

Percival hugs him tighter. "I missed you too. Every second I lied, I missed you. It was like you were there, but I wouldn't let myself have you until... until I did as he said."

Newt drops his arms, and Percival lets him out of his grip. But Newt doesn't stand back. "It still hurts so much, what you did to me. But I love you."

Without giving Percival time to respond, Newt takes hold of the collar of his shirt, pulls him closer, and kisses him. Percival gives a slight startle, stunned by the turn of events, then quickly adjusts and begins to move his lips against Newt's fervently.

And somehow, this feels like his return to Percival after his trip to South America however long ago. Their last reunion had been tainted by Percival's lies, of that mask he put up. But this. This is stained in truth, in hurt, and genuine love.

Newt can't get enough of it.

It's like he can't get enough of Percival; their bodies are pressed together as much as possible, creating warmth in the otherwise cold room, and Percival is responding equally as desperately. It takes a couple more seconds for Newt to stop, but he doesn't move away. Instead, he bows his head against Percival's, eyes tearing up against his will.

"I don't know what to do," Newt confesses, tone barely above a whisper.

Percival is a wanted criminal. A murderer.

"We'll figure it out."

"How?"

"I don't know. But we will."

Newt doesn't know how to respond. His mind is still in turmoil. So he just kisses Percival again. It becomes something more desperate and wanting quickly, with Newt letting Percival take the lead. It isn't until Percival demands access to his mouth with his tongue that lust leaks into this reunion on sorts. Newt groans at the sensation, and quickly realizes the last sexual encounter he had was with Percival a year ago. And that had been angry sex.

This is anything but.

Percival moves off of Newt. "Should we take this to the bed?" He asks.

Newt would like to say it took him a while to consider. But foolishly, _instantly_ , he says yes.

He doesn't protest as Percival leads them back to the bed, nor as he's kissed deeply, or as he's pushed so that he lies on his back, or when Percival sheds his shirt and gets on the bed overtop him.

"I love you, with everything I have," Percival says.

Newt melts. He allows Percival to kiss his forehead, lips soft and hesitant, before he moves downward, kissing Newt's jaw, and then neck with increasing fervency. Percival works at the buttons on Newt's shirt as he sucks a mark onto the vulnerable spot at the base of Newt's neck, causing him to give a quiet moan.

Once the shirt is unbuttoned, Newt sits up and throws it to the ground, before working on his pants, where they sit too tight around his increasingly hardening cock.

Percival does likewise, shuffling out of his dirty pants as gracefully as possible.

They're back on each other quickly after, bodies only separated by underclothes that do little to hide their want. Newt gives an experimental grind upwards, and Percival stutters out a groan. Percival kisses him again and they continue like that for a while, just gyrating their hips and thrusting to the point where Newt thinks they may end up getting off just in their underclothes.

But Percival moves off him a minute later. Newt almost whines, but stops himself from doing so when Percival starts to push the last of his clothes down. Newt takes the opportunity to do the same, arching off the bed to shove his own down. He isn't the least bit ashamed of his nudity anymore — not after having sex with Percival more times than he could recount. 

Eagerly, Newt reconnects with Percival, mashing their lips together and moving his hips upward, searching for pleasure. Percival meets him halfway, and at this point, Newt gasps, the contact overwhelming. He knows they won't be doing anything more advanced than simply moving their bodies against each other. It's been too long for both of them.

Soon enough the pleasure begins to build and build, feeling too intense but so good all at once. Percival kisses all over his face.

"I love you, I love you," Newt gasps out.

"I'm sorry," Percival whispers. "I'm so so sorry."

Newt's mind takes a second to process, his voice coming out breathy. "What."

"Everything I've done, I'm sorry."

Newt starts to move with increasing desperation. "I know, I know." He thinks he feels wetness against his face where Percival is but doesn't quite process it in full.

Percival also starts to move in a jerky rhythm, the pace they kept up coming apart as their bodies seek pleasure and pleasure only. Newt cries out first, his world narrowed down to only the physical feeling of bliss as he spills out between their abdomens, hips jerking as he orgasms. Percival peaks with a long, drawn-out moan only seconds later, adding to the sticky wetness between them.

It takes Newt a minute to sort out his thoughts and come back. His mind remains in a bliss-like haze and he could care less about the mess on him as Percival collapses on top of him.

Then he remembers the wetness on his cheek, and looks at Percival's face.

"You're crying."

"I sorry for what I did to you. I'm sorry I hurt you so badly, you didn't deserve any of it."

Newt sucks in a desperate breath. "Yes, I know. I'm not going to say it's okay, but I'm here. I- I don't know how to live with what you've done. But I'm here with you."

Percival says nothing in response. He lies beside Newt and puts his head on Newt's shoulder. The weight of him is comforting, something Newt has missed dearly, but he can't bring it in himself to give in to that feeling in him that wants to make him burst out loud in laughter and joy.

So just lying there with Percival, pleasure still emanating within him, is enough.

Newt shucks off his underwear completely then settles in, closing his eyes to think over what he's done. Only, the second his eyelids shut, weariness spreads over him and his limbs become heavy. Motivation to make it back to his own bed has become scarce, so he simply lies there, content to be naked and close to Percival.

He doesn't remember falling asleep. Nor can he remember a time sleep came so easily to him.

______

In a surprising turn of events, Newt's the first to wake in the morning. He comes to with the sound of soft breathing and a warm body wrapped around him securely. It's contentment, to be held and loved as he is right now. But the same arms wrapped around him are ones that have murdered an betrayed, and Newt willingly accepted them.

Well, no— he didn't just accept them, he welcomed them in. He wanted them, despite them being covered in someone's blood.

Newt opens his eyes and stares up at Percival, who's just barely in his line of sight as Newt's face is tucked in at his neck. His eyes are closed, face slack with sleep, and his breaths come evenly, apparently not the slightest bit haunted by nightmares today. He doesn't look like a monster, like a man that would murder, but the fact remains unchanged regardless of his appearance. He's also the man Newt had sex with just the night before, and the man he fell in love with.

No matter how much he lies to himself, tries to cut out the pain, or cover it up, nothing will change how he feels about Percival. Newt's accepted that now; he also accepts that these are feelings he shouldn't have.

Reconciling these two sides of Percival has become no less difficult.

Unbidden, Newt thinks of his mother. He wonders what she'd think of him sleeping in the arms of a murderer. She'd disapprove, for sure. But, at the same time, Newt thinks she'd understand. She'd always understood him much better than his father or brother.

Merlin, he misses her.

Newt shuts his eyes and settles closer to Percival, gripping the arms wrapped around him tighter.

__________

The second time Newt wakes, it's to a cool bed. He lifts his head off the pillow, blinking the sleep from his eyes as he tries to gather his thoughts. He wonders where Percival has gone off to; no lights are lit within the room, and normally sounds from the creatures outside filter in, but even they are near silent. It only gets this way when it's early morning. It may just a bit too early to wake up then, but Newt figures it doesn't really matter. He'd always resigned himself to having no sleep just the previous night, so by any rate, he's more than well rested.

He yawns, stretching out in the bed, the muscles in his thighs pleasantly sore from last night's activities.

He shucks the blanket off himself and stands, stark naked, and stretches out again. Right, well now he has to find his clothes, which if he remembers correctly, were thrown about the room haphazardly. Newt scans the floorboards for his shirt and pants, but neither are to be seen anywhere. Even his underwear is missing.

Newt frowns. Surely they didn't end up on a desk or shelf? He scans the rest of the room, and then he smiles when he catches sight of a perfectly folded bundle of clothes sitting on top of his desk.

Percival always did hate disorder.

Newt quickly dresses, shoving on his shoes as he heads through the doorway into the rest of his case. He isn't worried — Percival couldn't have gone far. He wouldn't leave without a word either. Percival just isn't the type of person to laze about in bed once he's awake.

And sure enough, Newt finds him, in a small clearing, doing push-ups of all things. Shirtless, too. 

"Preparing for an upcoming fight?" Newt teases.

Percival jumps. He lowers himself down one more time, then sits up and turns around. "Sometimes, magic fails, and when it does, all you have is yourself to rely on."

Newt raises an eyebrow. It's not the answer he'd expected, perhaps a bit dark, but Percival isn't wrong. It's enough to sober him up, to frame things in perspective a bit. 

"Percival, listen, I think we have to talk."

Percival stands. "I agree. I know I'm imposing on you by staying here, and as much as I want to be around you, I think... I think I should leave."

"I—" Newt doesn't want him to leave, though. "Do you want to?"

"I want to right my wrongs. And I'll do it by stopping Grindelwald and bringing him to justice. I know it doesn't undo what I've done, but it's a start."

Newt smiles bitterly. "Yes, it is." But he doesn't want to be alone anymore.

Percival returns his smile, if a bit hesitantly, and steps closer. "I'd kiss you right now, but I'm very sweaty."

Newt pulls him closer by the back of his neck anyway, connecting their lips for a few seconds before stepping back. "And I have morning breath, so we're even."

Percival huffs, which is the closest to a laugh he'll give usually.

Newt becomes enchanted by the mirth he sees in Percival's eyes, something so rarely glimpsed, especially ever since he'd been captured by Grindelwald. He doesn't think he can go another year without him again.

"Percival, can you stay? For a bit. I want to... think over things."

All humour fades from Percival's features. "Yes? I mean-" he pauses and Newt sees hope return to his eyes. "Ok. Yes. I'll stay for now."

"Good." Newt doesn't know what else to say. "I'll just... I'll be upstairs, taking care of... things."

"Sure," Percival replies, turning around to pick up his shirt from where it hangs on a fence post.

Newt doesn't stay to watch — as much as he'd like to — and instead heads upstairs to his room, where he locks himself in all day. 

_

As Newt lies in his bed, tired beyond all belief, he comes to a realization. He laughs out loud the minute it crosses his mind. He doesn't care what Percival has done. Not really. Maybe in a weird, obligated sort of way, he does. But he never met the auror Percival killed — doesn't even know the man's name. He still feels horrible, of course. He isn't an unfeeling monster. It's just that it doesn't matter _enough_.

Funny, that it took nearly a year and a half for him to come to the revelation.

He turns to the empty side of his bed, evaluating the sheets. Percival should be there.

Newt tosses the blankets off himself, standing with a renewed energy and sense of purpose he hasn't felt since New York, and throws the door open. He tries not to seem as though he's rushing as he flies down the stairs in search of Percival.

"Percival?" He calls.

He waits a few seconds.

"Here."

The voice came from the kitchen, so he follows, only to stop in his tracks.

The change is immediately apparent. Gone are the long, wavy locks of black hair, instead replaced by an impeccable undercut. His face is clean-shaven. The only difference between the last time Newt saw him like this, looking like MACUSA's Director of Magical Security, are lines of age that have deepened from a stressful year on the run.

Percival stands up from where he'd been sitting at the dining table. He comes closer to Newt. "It's time to stop sulking. To stop running. I've done horrible, terrible things. I won't hide from it anymore. I was made Director for a reason, and I'm going to use those talents to stop him."

Newt's mouth won't work. His tongue turned to lead, and forming a word is impossible.

"Newt, I don't deserve you. But. I want to be with you. I want you by my side as I do this."

Newt makes a nervous noise. "I guess you have your answer, then."

"My answer?"

"You forgot?" Newt nearly laughs aloud. All this time, he's been holding onto this concept as if it's the one point of importance in his life. And Percival forgot all about it. "In New York, in our home, you asked me to stay with you. I couldn't do it then. I said I'd have an answer for you the next time I saw you."

"Oh."

"Yes. Well, now you're asking me again. And I have my answer this time; stay with me. I don't care where we go, I'll stand by your side. I don't know when Grindelwald partly became our responsibility, but yes, I'll help you."

Percival's eyebrows raise and his eyes soften. He steps closer to Newt, putting a gentle hand on his face, caressing it with his calloused thumb. He smiles. "I can never undo what I've done, but I'll work to help others for as long as I live, just as I used to." He pauses, looking Newt directly in the eyes. "I love you."

Newt moves in, connecting his lips with Percival for a chaste kiss. "I love you too."

And finally, for the first time since New York, he has Percival back. He still has his reservations, and there are a large array of hiccups they'll have to sort through, such as Percival still being wanted. But for now, it's enough just to be with Percival again — to be wanted and desired and understood like he never has.

It's enough. And that's all that matters.

**Author's Note:**

> Not even sure if anyone is around to read this fic anymore, but please leave a comment so I don't feel like I'm posting this into a void! Comments are sooo validating <3


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